FICTION

Chasia Eidson

Two Hundred Years Ago

The bundle in his throat was not
an unfamiliar visitor. The lump always came in February. It especially made
itself known on his birthday. It wasn’t easy being born on February 12, the
son of two beaming parents who had attended a university named after Abraham
Lincoln. With parents so devoted to their alma mater, they thought it would
be honorable to name their son Lincoln. Every single one of his birthdays
was overshadowed by the father of his past.

It wasn’t necessarily his
parents’ fault or even Abraham Lincoln’s fault that Lincoln Cartwright was
prone to anxiety attacks in the month of February. It was his fault, he
always thought, for wanting to receive so much attention and appreciation
from his peers. Fortunately, at the age of twenty-nine, he had a modest
position in a firm way up in Chicago, so far away from the mountains and
well water he had always known, that provided him with adequate insurance to
ease the costs of the most patient psychiatrists and the anxiety medication
they prescribed to him. As he turned off exit 84 towards Lexington and
Louisville, he reminded himself of the reason for going to his alma mater.
That night, Cartwright would be a bigger name than Lincoln.

Cartwright was pressured into
attending the same university as his parents. They were first-generation
college students, and how they were proud! Before them, it wasn’t encouraged
for “their kind” to get an education. Cartwright’s father was expected to
stay home and help out with the farm. Cartwright’s mother was expected to
help her grandmother take care of her younger siblings while her father went
to the coal mine in Hyden, Kentucky. In school, they picked up terms like
Appalachian and agrarian to describe their lifestyles.
Cartwright’s father worked on a local farm to pay for his education, and his
mother sold poems to magazines to cover her debts. When the two finally met
and fell in love close to graduation, they had picked up terms like
hunger and diligence.

Cartwright would have resembled
the south end of a north bound donkey if he told his parents he wasn’t
interested in earning a college diploma at the university that allowed poor,
low-class people like his parents to finally receive an education. He went
to school, earned moderate grades, joined several clubs, and enjoyed the
attention of a select few ladies from cities he had only read about in
geography. Several years later, the 200th birthday of Abraham
Lincoln landed on a Thursday. Several of his college buddies planned a
weekend-long reunion that would consist of basketball games, alcohol, and
stories that only they knew. Cartwright’s birthday would be ignored once
more. That night, Cartwright decided to be a larger figure than Lincoln.

His campus had changed a great
deal over the last six years. Trees had been lost to progress, and buildings
had been erected that were once just dreams of an elite few people that did
not fear disappointment. The sun breathed warm air into the clear sky that
day, but the green grass and colorful leaves impressed into his memory would
not wake up for months to come.

Lincoln remained the same. He
stared down at every person who entered the school he guarded. Cartwright
felt the pressure from the stone gaze as their eyes met, and he popped a
Xanax into his mouth. That night, Cartwright would stand taller than
Lincoln.

Photograph by Jackie Walker

No wishes of good health reached
Cartwright’s ears in the motel room that night. His friends barely
recognized his face. They had all brought their wives or girlfriends, and
they shared stories about how they met or got into fights over their loved
ones. Much alcohol had been consumed that night by most of the people in the
room, and every yarn spun was funnier than the last tale that was woven.

Cartwright drank a Xanax with his
beer and wondered how he was even invited. He knew he would later regret
mixing his medication and beverages together, and the fuzzy thought made him
want to consume another one. The lump in his throat distracted him. How he
desperately wanted to swallow all of his incoming tears, leap onto a chair,
and prove he was worth being remembered! He was determined to become as
famous as Lincoln - if not more famous.

He formulated a speech in his
mind, mouthing every word to make sure he could pronounce it. John Walter’s
account of the time he got chased by skunks in the woods while he was trying
to find his way back to the dorm after an outrageous party that involved the
president of the university threatening to call the police generated a round
of laughter that buzzed in Cartwright’s ears. He found a chair and climbed
up on it, waiting for everyone to notice him. It was almost midnight, and it
would no longer be his birthday very soon. His speech would go to waste. He
slipped another Xanax down his throat with some difficulty, and the coughing
fit that came from it summoned everyone’s eyes to him.

“I have a speech to make,” he
said with all the poise he could muster. “A toast, if you will, to celebrate
our being here in this little motel room in Middlesboro.” The men raised
their beers with great expectations, and some of the more sober women
wrinkled their brows with concern.

“On this day, two hundred years
ago, Abraham Lincoln was born–”

“Two hundred years ago, nobody
cared about Lincoln!” shouted one of the men. The group erupted into
snickers and chuckles. Cartwright was too busy replaying the outburst in his
mind to notice who interrupted him. His lips curled upward with relief for
the first time in his life, as if a much needed message was finally
delivered to him. He bowed to his audience who no longer was paying
attention to him and graciously stepped down from the chair.
–e-

The Emancipator Staff

The Emancipator was founded in 1999 by students Ginger
Glenn, Jason Howard, Angie Slater, and Sandy Slater, with
the guidance of faculty advisor Liz Lamont. The journal is
named in honor of President Abraham Lincoln. LMU serves
as a living memorial to the legacy of President Lincoln

LMU is a values-based learning community dedicated to pro-
viding educational experiences in the liberal arts and professional studies. The main campus is located in Harrogate,
Tennessee. For more information about the university, contact the Office of Admissions, at 423.869.6280 oer via email
at admission@lmunet.edu.